Chapter 916: Advanced Mechanical Sense, Visit from the Infinite Consortium

Chapter 916: Advanced Armament Sensation, the Visit of the Infinite Corporation

The Broken Ring, the Black Star Legion’s headquarters, the Second Satellite, Dome Training Field No. 001.

This training ground sprawled far beyond the confines of a standard combat chamber, its vast expanse engineered to accommodate larger-scale battles. Reinforced with ultra-high-intensity alloys, its surface could withstand devastating strikes, its design resembling a colossal circular arena. Beneath it all loomed a towering arc-shaped nanotech adaptive dome, capable of simulating diverse battlefield conditions. Transport tunnels snaked through the floor and walls, linking to the armory housing mechanized soldiers.

Han Xiao stood atop the elevated viewing platform, his gaze fixed intently below. Rayan, Fading, and others milled around him, some seated, others standing, all surveying the chaos beneath.

At that moment, the dome erupted in fury. Cracks in the earth revealed gashes where mechanized soldiers surged forth—mounted cavalry, mechanical beasts, floating artillery, and nimble scout drones, each bearing unique roles. Wave after wave clashed against the twin figures at the arena’s heart.

The combat’s caliber was D-grade, dominated by low-tier mechanized soldiers wielding firearms and electromagnetic weapons. Small-caliber cannons belched relentless fire, their armor-piercing high-explosive rounds scorching the alloy floor into blackened scars, each explosion a thunderous *thud*.

Some soldiers’ electromagnetic rifles spat tracer bolts at blinding speed, streaking across the air like ribbons of pale blue light, their arcs leaping and dancing across walls and ground in showers of sparks.

At the center, two figures stood immovable: a hulking mech-suited warrior clad in obsidian armor, and a robed mage whose form was wreathed in rune-etched magical shields—Ni Luo and Tuoma.

Ni Luo, a mere child still in his youth, had absorbed the Star Dragon’s blood for years, its vitality fused with the life energy gifted by Isis. His cells pulsed with vigor, his physique rivaling that of mature peers, his mechanical prowess far exceeding his years.

—In recent years, his *Intermediate Armament Sensation* had evolved, buoyed by the *Advanced Lucky Halo*, into an *Advanced Armament Sensation*.

During training, he was forbidden from using Han Xiao’s gifts. His armor and the battlefield’s turrets were his own creations, their power amplified by his mechanical mastery. One by one, the mechanized soldiers were reduced to heaps of molten metal.

Han Xiao strode over, his purpose clear: to assess Ni Luo’s progress, to gauge the growth of this golden goose.

Tuoma, too, bore the *Lucky Halo*, a prodigious talent in sorcery that defied convention. A spell model that typically demanded seven days of study, he mastered in less than a day. His rapid ascent under Rayan’s tutelage marked him as a rising star in Han Xiao’s eyes.

*CRACK!*

The roar of cannons drowned out all else. From his perch, Han Xiao scratched his chin, murmuring to Rayan, “His mechanical skills are decent, but his close combat? Not so much. One touch from a mechanical beast, and he’s helpless—still green.”

“This is my oversight. I’ve focused too much on his mechanics, neglecting his martial arts. I’ll adjust his training regimen accordingly.” Rayan’s tone was sharp, unyielding.

“Increase the intensity. Don’t slacken on the mechanical drills.” Han Xiao’s voice cut through the din.

“Understood.”

Beside them, Benite’s holographic projection flickered with quiet satisfaction.

Fading shook his head, exasperated. “A mechanic’s weakness is close combat. Black Star isn’t every mech warrior like you—don’t expect perfection.”

Han Xiao chuckled. “A person must have dreams. Aiming higher isn’t a bad thing.”

Inside him, pride swelled—Ni Luo’s mastery had reached Advanced Armament Sensation, *Perfect Armament Sensation* beckoning on the horizon.

“Tuoma’s growth is impressive,” Han Xiao added, clapping Rayan’s shoulder. “You’ve taught him well.”

“But what’s the point? One day, he’ll surpass even—”

“—*Silence.*” Han Xiao’s hand clamped over Fading’s mouth, his expression darkening.

Moments later, Ni Luo’s ammunition dwindled, Tuoma’s mana drained, and the mechanized soldiers fell silent. Both collapsed onto the viewing platform, drenched in sweat and breathless.

Han Xiao nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”

Benite sighed, relief softening his features. “Master Black Star has taught you well. In a few years, I may not be your match.”

The praise flushed Ni Luo’s cheeks crimson.

Han Xiao’s eyes lingered on the boy, a mixture of hope and resolve in his heart. Beyond chasing *Perfect Armament Sensation*, he yearned for Ni Luo to become a pillar of the Legion’s next generation.

After a few more words of encouragement, the group boarded transport ships, returning to the main base.

Two years had stabilized the Black Star Legion, its headquarters now dotted with smaller mechanized satellites to house its expanding ranks.

Back in his office, Han Xiao was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Master, many partners are inquiring about this year’s Black Star Conference.”

Han Xiao raised an eyebrow, musing, “In a few months. We can send out invitations then.”

The Black Star Conference, hosted biennially by the Legion and the Evolution Cube, had grown increasingly prestigious, rivaling Harbinger’s “Harbinger Conference.” Its allure drew factions eager to connect with advanced civilizations.

The Evolution Cube’s contributions extended beyond mere funds; its allies wove a vast web of interests, allowing the Legion to penetrate diverse industries. With its brand and might, few in the star system could challenge it.

The Evolution Cube’s lucrative deals acted as catalysts, fueling the Legion’s explosive growth. Over two years, its industrial chains solidified, its influence now bearing the hallmarks of a sprawling conglomerate.

Thanks to the Evolution Cube, the Legion’s partnerships multiplied, its conference’s reach expanding dramatically, forging a distinct emerging faction.

If the Evolution Cube’s constraints were lifted, profits would soar—but so would risks. Han Xiao deemed the status quo acceptable, the Cube’s burdens largely borne by the Empire, sparing the Legion over ninety percent of danger.

“Very well. I’ll draft the invitations… Ah, there’s another matter. A non-partner seeks to attend.”

“The Conference only invites our partners. Others are rejected outright. That’s the rule. Why ask me?”

“This faction holds significant clout. I’m uncertain how to proceed.”

Han Xiao’s brow twitched, intrigue flickering in his gaze.

“Who are they?”

“The Infinite Corporation.”

The name struck him like a thunderclap. His eyes narrowed, thoughts racing.

*Solorin’s Infinite Corporation?*

Once, a covert clash had erupted—Solorin had deployed a proxy to probe the Legion, only to be crushed by Han Xiao. Two years had passed. Now, their sudden bid to attend the Conference… what game were they playing?

“What’s their justification?” Han Xiao mused.

“They seek commercial cooperation, citing ties to the Radiant World. They know the Empire’s first-phase development will partition territories among allies, and wish to negotiate.”

Han Xiao’s eyes widened.

Though the Stellar Conglomerates couldn’t claim a share of the Radiant World’s initial spoils, they’d inevitably play roles in its future. The newborn star system’s riches beckoned, and the Infinite Corporation’s move reeked of opportunism.

Yet their rationale held water. Still, past friction lingered. Han Xiao weighed the offer, his voice steady: “Send them an invitation. I’d like to meet them face-to-face.”

Months later, the pro league concluded, and Han Xiao felt no threat from the Infinite Corporation. A single meeting would clarify their intentions.

“Understood. I’ll handle it.”

Westvia nodded, exiting swiftly.

Han Xiao poured himself a drink, sipping as he tackled pending tasks. Eventually, he logged into the forum.

Today marked the first round of the International Championship. Best-of-five matches, the opening clash pitted first-ranked Jiangcheng against Fighting Axe FC—viewership hit a new peak.

Three Chinese teams advanced to the quarterfinals, their fans in the Broken Ring buzzing. If the Dynasty, Changle, and Jiangcheng all prevailed, three Chinese squads would breach the semifinals—a source of immense pride.

Yet dissent simmered. Critics scoffed, predicting all three would fall, their posts dripping with mockery.

In the semifinals, no team would hold back. Battles would rage fiercely. Han Xiao watched with bated breath, curious what legacy the Chinese contingent would carve this year.

——

(The celestial beast has recently stirred from its slumber; the brothers must henceforth take heed. The Qidian platform has undergone a system upgrade, and all texts shall henceforth display only the most recent three days' worth of chapters, only to be restored in due course.)